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COPY 1 






By WILLIAM C. SMITH 




N AARON’S 
NECK 

AND 

AMOS STRONG, 
Legislator; 

TWO SHORT STORIES 



WILLIAM C. SMITH 


19 10 



Copyright, 1910, 

By WILLIAM C. SMITH 



Printed by F. B . & F . P. Gross, Hyannis, Mass. 


©CI.A265516 


ON AARON’S RECK 








ON AARON’S NECK 


I 

K T was a cool June morning, but Prudence had 
been vigorously at work cleaning the wood- 
shed and sink-room (it was the last of the 
spring cleaning) , and as she stood before the screen 
door resting and looking out upon the green fields , 
she fanned herself almost involuntarily with the 
end of her apron. Presently she noticed the tall, 
bent form of Uncle Obed laboring up the street, 
and a peculiar smile, intelligible only to those who 
had some knowledge of that gentleman, overspread 
her face. Uncle Obed was one of the "characters” 
of the seaside village of Columbus. Pompous, 
dignified, business-like in manner, he travelled 
from house to house day after day with his dilapi- 
dated satchel scantily supplied with goods, selling 
now and then a few pins, needles, handkerchiefs 
and the like with as much dignified condescension 
as if he had been proprietor of the whole town. 
His cheerfulness alone saved him from ridicule. It 
abounded whether he sold you anything or not, 
whether his faithful wife had been pouring the 
vials of her wrath upon him or whether the flow of 
domestic happiness was untainted and untroubled. 
Approaching the door slowly, he paused to relieve 

[ 5 ] 


ON AARON’S NECK 


himself of the satchel slung over his shoulder and 
clearing his throat, inquired for Mrs. Jackson. 

Prudence opened the door slowly, allowing him 
time to clean his boots on the mat outside, advised 
him to try the mat inside on the plea that the other 
was not very clean, and snatching a newspaper 
from the chair, motioned for him to be seated. 
Glancing across the room, he noticed the wasted 
form of Mrs. Jackson rising above the white ex- 
panse of newspaper that covered the kitchen stove. 
In that house no dust was allowed to settle on any- 
thing but newspapers and the floor. Even the 
clock was ornamented with newspaper head-gear. 

"Well, Mrs. Jackson,” the old man began, "you’re 
smart here. All the cooking done and the stove 
kivered over before nine o’clock.” 

"Law, Mr. Crump, it’s all Prudence’ doin’s,” 
replied Mrs. Jackson. "I’ve had rheumatiz so bad 
lately I hain’t good fer much.” 

"We must expect that at our age,” said Uncle 
Obed. "I’m growing stiff myself, but I keep at it. 
Business must be attended to. I’m on my way 
now down to Mr. Powers store to replenish my 
stock, then I must take my regular route to the 
nor’west quarter of the town, go over to cousin 
Jane’s with a pair of stockings for the child and 
over to widder Whistler’s with some hairpins and 
tea she’s ordered. I shall be scursely able to walk 


[ 6 ] 


ON AARON’S NECK 


when it comes night. Is there anything in my line 
this morning?” 

Prudence, who had been watching the satchel 
with mingled feelings of curiosity and amusement, 
was surprised to find, when he opened it, that there 
really was something in it — a bandanna handker- 
chief, a cake of chocolate, three sticks of candy, 
pins, spools of cotton, two small blank-books and 
a package that smelled like coffee. Mrs. Jackson 
thought she would like " a little good old Shooshong 
tea” once more and he promised to bring some the 
next day. 

" So you will have some new neighbors this sum- 
mer I hear,” said he, as he arose to go. 

"Dew tell,” rejoined the old lady, " I hain’t heerd 
about it. Who’s cornin’ ?” 

"Widder Winter over here has let her house fer 
the summer to a family from York — New York. 
Four boys and a gal and a servant, coming in a few 
days.” 

"Well, the widder is mighty sly about it,” 
gasped the old lady, rising energetically from her 
chair without a trace of rheumatism in her move- 
ments. "I hain’t heerd a syllable of this afore. 
’Peers tew me folks dew about as they’ve a mind 
tew nowadays.” 

Uncle Obed was out of doors by this time. "I 
s’pose it will cause talk,” said he, as he started down 
2 


[ 7 ] 


ON AAKON’S NECK 


the lane, and the rapid and earnest tones of the two 
ladies, audible even after he had reached the high- 
way, convinced him that he was substantially cor- 
rect in his statement. 

The following morning when he arrived with the 
tea, he was cordially entreated to come in and rest 
a few minutes. 

"I don’t see how Polly Winter can let that house 
and things tew such a tribe as that,” began the old 
lady. " Why, there won’t be nothin’ left of it. 
How did she git them? When air they cornin’? 
How long air they goin’ to stay? Be they sick or 
short of money, or in any trouble? How does she 
know she’ll git her pay?” 

Uncle Obed pleaded ignorance upon all these 
burning questions of the hour. 

" I don’t see what folks want to leave the city for,” 
suggested Prudence. "Sister Malviny says she 
never wants to see the country again. She has 
two rooms on the corner of the street at East Dis- 
cord and she can see all the passin’, the street cars 
and everything and she does so enjoy the stir. 
She wouldn’t leave for anything. She has a cabi- 
net bed that shuts up in the day time, a bed lounge 
and a hammock bed, and the family all sleep 
together in one room as nice as a pin ; and the cars 
go nearly all night. I’m just dying to go up and 
visit her.” 


[ 8 ] 


ON AARON'S NECK 


"There’s curus folks in the world,” said Uncle 
Obed, "These Yorkers hain’t of our breed and style 
or they’d stay at home and keep to work as we do.” 

"That’s what I say,” remarked the old lady. "I 
don't believe they air much account and I doubt if 
Polly gits her rent.” 

And so the strangers were condemned in advance 
to suspicion and doubt, because at that time summer 
visitors and summer residents were almost un- 
known, at least in the little secluded community of 
Columbus, and the bucolic mind had not yet been 
adjusted to the summer vacation idea. 

When the big stage coach stopped one afternoon 
late in June before widow Winter’s cottage, the 
boys from "York” climbed down over numerous 
trunks and band-boxes to find themselves in the 
midst of a curious throng of all ages. For a 
moment, as their parents emerged from the interior 
of the coach, they stood in astonishment, then with 
one accord they exclaimed with boyish brutality : 
"What are you folks doing? Catching flies?” 

Every one in the crowd closed his mouth but 
made no other movement of face or body. 

" How are you ?” said the youngest boy to one of 
about the same size near him. No response. 

"Can’t you say anything?” No reply. 

The head of the family, who bore the name of 
Jamison, now led the way to the house. A few of 


[ 9 ] 


ON AARON’S NECK 


the older persons remained to help the driver with 
the trunks, but the rest of the silent assemblage 
soon melted away, each carrying directly home his 
impressions of the new arrivals. 

Widow Winter, who greeted the party at the 
front door, had just finished a three weeks’ course 
of thorough cleaning, in the course of which she 
was twice prostrated with neuralgia and other 
nervous disorders and even now presented a swollen 
face and trembling hands to her new friends. The 
demon of dirt had been vanquished, but the victor 
was in no condition to follow up her advantage. 
Indeed, had the Jamisons delayed their coming a 
week longer, according to their original intention, 
it is likely that they would have found their land- 
lady occupying the best bed and devoting her 
wasted energies to the consumption of irreconcil- 
able pills and powders. 

The Jamisons praised the neatness and orderli- 
ness of the house without stint, but cold chills 
would persist in running down their spinal columns, 
although the day was hot. 

"I wish you would look into that closet and see 
if there are any skeletons there,” said Mrs. Jamison 
to her husband, when Mrs. Winter had left the 
room. "Besides, there may be ghosts in this house. 
I don’t think I shall stay.” 

"You’ll feel better,” said Mr. Jamison, "after the 


[ 10 ] 


ON AARONS NECK 


old lady goes and we get the blinds open and these 
newspapers off the chairs and pictures.” 

However, he thought it best to comply with the 
request of his wife and really felt as much relieved 
as she to find the closet empty. 

"It’s all right,” said he with renewed assurance, 
"and so clean. Cleanliness, you know, is next to 
Godliness.” 

"I should put homelikeness in between the two,” 
replied his wife. 

Presently Mrs. Winter came in and began to 
remove the newspapers, remarking that she had 
placed them there to save dusting when the room 
was closed. 

"May we open some of the blinds?” ventured 
Mrs. Jamison. 

" Dew anything you wish just as if you was on 
your own piazzo,” was the reassuring response. 

The children jumped to their feet at once and 
soon had every blind open and the newspapers out 
of sight. 

Tom, Dick, Harry, Brother and Sister were the 
names by w'hich these lively scions of the Jamison 
family were respectively known. The youngest 
boy and the girl had other names but they had 
fallen into "innocuous desuetude.” Tom, the eld- 
est, was nearly sixteen, and whenever his father 
was absent, assumed to lead and rule the family. 


[ 11 ] 


ON AARON’S NECK 


After Mrs. Winter departed on the following 
day to live with her sister, the family fell to dis- 
cussing the propriety of naming their new abode. 
Dick thought Seaside Villa would be an appropriate 
name ; Tom considered it stale and flat and sug- 
gested Newspaper Jungle, but Mr. Jamison stopped 
proceedings by asserting that he wanted no names. 

"Why not?” inquired his wife. 

"Well, I seethe danger of it,” said he. "That 
bluff out there across the street is an object lesson 
to me. It is called Mary’s Head and probably will 
always retain that name. Now the land all around 
here bears the general name of Aaron’s Neck and 
we have the peculiar geographical romance that 
Mary’s Head is always found on Aaron’s Neck. 
There are hidden dangers lurking, I am con- 
vinced, even in the most judicious attempts to 
devise names for places.” 

Several days after their arrival the boys of the 
neighborhood first made their appearance in the 
yard. Harry ran out to greet them. They were lean- 
ing against the fence and grinned as he approached. 

"Hello,” said he. 

Each one rubbed his bare feet together and 
grinned more. 

" Where do you live ?” continued Harry. 

Each one rubbed his leg up and down with his 
foot and looked down into the sand. 


[ 12 ] 


ON AARON’S NECK 


Harry whirled around on his heel and asked if 
they thought it was going to rain. 

"Let’s play hide and hoot,” said one, who stood 
behind the others and could not be seen. 

"What’s hide and hoot?” exclaimed Harry. 

"You hide your eyes and count a hundred and 
then try to — ” 

"Oh! it’s hide and seek you mean, is it?” said 
Harry. 

"We don’t call it no such name as that,” was the 
reply. 

"Be you a city fellar?” was the next inquiry. 

"Sure,” said Harry. 

"I thought so,” said his interrogator. 

"How do you tell?” inquired Harry. 

"Oh, by the cut of your jib,” was the response. 

"Do they have stores full of candy and apples 
and peanuts where you live?” inquired another. 

"Of course,” said Harry. 

"You must have got adrift then, or dragged your 
anchor to come to this place. A fellar can’t get 
nothin’ good down here.” 

The ice was now broken, they all hurried to the 
stable and the fun began. 

When Thomas Jefferson Blossom came over from 
East Walkover the following Sunday evening to 
see Prudence, she had an unusually large budget of 
news for him. East Walkover was about fifteen 


[ 13 ] 


ON AARON’S NECK 


miles distant from Columbus and Thomas had reg- 
ularly covered that distance with his horse and 
buggy, going and returning, every week for the 
past ten years. It was a place of woods, huckle- 
berries and occasional farm houses. His assiduous 
attentions to Prudence had been the subject of 
much comment in the past, but public opinion had 
now become confirmed in the idea that they would 
never marry. Some said Prudence would never 
leave her mother and go to live among the huckle- 
berries. Others said that Thomas hated fishing and 
would never leave his farm, for one could do noth- 
ing in Columbus except fish or enter politics. To 
be sure, as things went there, no greater qualities 
seemed to be needed for one occupation than for 
the other, but Thomas would never have dreamed 
that he could be a politician. He was too level- 
headed to think of forcing himself into a position 
for which he was not fitted. 

On the Sunday evening in question, Prudence 
entertained him at length regarding the unusual 
performances of the Jamisons. 

"They have nigh about upset the neighborhood,” 
said she. "Every blind in that house is wide open, 
and they use the whole place from stable to front 
door. In the evening the whole family use the 
best room and the best furniture, and they say the 
boys have arranged it so they can slide down the 


[ 14 ] 


ON AARON’S NECK 


front stairs, through the hall and over the front 
steps onto the grass. And do you know, the widow 
don’t seem a bit troubled about it. She tells folks 
as how she is glad to have somebody use those 
things, that she knows she never would herself and 
she thinks it is high time that somebody got some 
good out of them. Did you ever?” 

"And that boy Harry went over yistiddy to Mrs. 
Thrum’s and offered to tend her baby, Moses, for 
her, and she was just foolish enough to let him do 
it. Pretty soon both boy and baby were gone, 
nobody knew where, and the neighbors hunted high 
and low for them. Finally, they found Harry 
down to the shore in swimming. Mrs. Thrum was 
about distracted as the baby was nowhere to be 
seen and she supposed he had drownded it ; but he 
told them Moses was all right, as he had left him in 
the bulrushes ! Well, sure enough, the baby was 
all right. That fellow had put him over the fence 
into our currant bushes in the garden and left him, 
and there we found him smiling and happy. He’s 
just a dear, if his name is Moses Peter Thrum. 
And that oldest boy, Tom, is sky larking with all 
the young girls in the village and they all think he 
is beautiful and don’t take any interest in their 
work and don’t sleep nights and talk over the fence 
together by the hour about him. They are a 
powerful uncommon family.” 

3 


[151 


ON AARON’S NECK 


Thomas listened to this outburst with the calm, 
sphinx-like exterior which had attended him from 
the cradle. 

"Do they like the place?” he inquired quietly. 

"Oh, yes. It is so trooly rooral, the boys say, 
whatever that is.” 

"Is the head of the family here?” he continued. 

"Yes,” said Prudence, "going to stay about a 
week longer and coming again ’fore the family goes 
back.” 

"Guess, then, I’ll stop over night and scrape 
acquaintance with him in the mornin’,” said Thomas. 

After breakfast the next morning Thomas made 
ready his team and started slowly up the street. 
In front of the Jamison cottage he halted and ac- 
costed Mr. Jamison, who was enjoying the morning 
air. 

"Mornin’,” said Thomas. 

"How do you do, sir,” was the response. 

"See you are enjoyin’ the country,” said 
Thomas. 

"Yes, we like the place very much,” said Mr. 
Jamison, "now that we have become better ac- 
quainted with the people.” 

"Glad to hear it,” said Thomas. "Are you 
well supplied with garden sass, lettuce, peas, beans 
and such like? I come this way every Sunday and 
might let you have some, if you was pinched.” 


[ 16 ] 


ON AARON'S NECK 


"I’m glad to know it,” said Mr. Jamison. "My 
wife has been complaining about that. I will ask 
her.” 

Thomas got an order and the following Sunday 
when he delivered it, contrived to have a long talk 
with Mr. Jamison. 

"Hain’t thinkin’ of buying a place here to come 
to summers, are ye?” said he, in a seemingly casual 
way, as he was about to go. 

"I thought there was none for sale,” said Mr. 
Jamison. 

"Wall, there hain’t,” said Thomas, "but you 
might p’raps get one if you went to work right. 
Deacon Adams down below here is looking out for 
the widder Jackson’s property. It’s her daughter 
I’m courtin’. Now they don’t want to sell, but if 
you should make the deacon a proposition and give 
them a few months to git used to the idea of the 
thing, p’raps by that time they will be willing to 
sell. At any rate, you might try that tack, if you 
want a place. It takes more time to uproot an oak 
that’s been livin’ on the same soil for years than it 
does one of them strawberry plants that’s changed 
about every year or two.” 

"I’ll think about it,” said Mr. Jamison as they 
j parted. 

About a month later when Thomas came to see 
Prudence he learned Mr. Jamison had surprised 


[ 17 ] 


ON AARON’S NECK 


everybody by writing from New York and offering 
to buy the house. 

"What do you think about it?” said Thomas. 

"I think just as mother does, that it’s ridicker- 
lous,” was the reply. 

"Stranger things have happened,” said Thomas. 

"But where could we go to?” suggested Prudence. 

"You could hire Mr. Jones’ place, or better, 
p’raps the deacon would sell you half of his house. 
It’s big enough for two families.” 

"You talk strange,” said Prudence laughing. 
"You don’t really think we ought to sell, do you?” 

"I’ll think it over and let you know next week,” 
he replied. " What does the deacon say about your 
selling ?” 

"He thinks it would be foolish, of course,” was 
her answer. 

Thomas wisely unfolded his scheme gradually. 
His courtship had extended over a long period, 
because under the circumstances he knew he would 
be rejected, if he should propose marriage. Pru- 
dence, he felt, would not be persuaded to leave her 
mother alone without care and her mother would 
not, of course, consent to leave the village where 
she was born and reared and where her best days 
had been spent. Some unusual change must take 
place. When, therefore, he learned that the 
Jamisons were pleased with the locality, he began 


[ 18 ] 


ON AARON’S NECK 


to think and to plan. He succeeded, as we have 
seen, in inducing Mr. Jamison to make an offer for 
the Jackson place. He must next obtain the con- 
sent of Dea. Adams to the sale. He knew very 
well that it would be of no avail to argue with the 
deacon personally, but he was sure that his sugges- 
tion concerning the possibility of the widow buying 
one-half of the deacon’s house would reach the ears 
of the latter in due time and that it would have a 
powerful influence upon a man so shrewd in worldly 
matters as the deacon was known to be. If the 
deacon could be won over, then would be the time 
for Thomas to propose marriage. He could assure 
Prudence that her mother would not really be left 
alone, if she should marry, but would be in a 
measure under the care of the deacon’s family, or 
would, at least, have some one to call upon in case 
of illness. 

At the edge of the bluff across the street from 
Mrs. Jackson’s house were three or four rough 
board benches for the accommodation of the village 
loungers in summer, each elaborately carved with 
the initials of the amateur wood-carvers of the 
town. One Saturday toward the latter part of the 
summer several children, including the three young- 
est Jamison children, were busily playing around 
these benches, when Harry Jamison, the leader of 
the band, suddenly dropped over the edge of the 


[ 19 ] 


ON AARON’S NECK 


bluff and landed several feet below in the soft sand, 
which sloped abruptly to the seashore. 

“Hello there,” he shouted, "let’s make a big 
cave in this bank. You go home, Brother, and get 
the shovels and we’ll have fun.” 

In a few minutes the boys were busily at work. 
They continued shoveling with unabated ardor for 
about an hour, then crawled into their cave, rested, 
talked and planned. Harry entertained them with 
a description of the Mammoth Cave, of which he 
had heard ; then they agreed to meet again the fol- 
lowing week, make the hole deeper and wider and 
furnish the * place with chairs and a table. Harry 
promised to bring his big brother, Tom, over to 
preach to them ; they would have a school and some 
thought they ought to live there all the time when 
it was finished. They had fine sport and the future 
was big with possibilities. 

But it seems that things had been otherwise 
ordered. The next day was Sunday and Thomas 
came again to see Prudence. As the evening 
shadows deepened, they left their favorite corner on 
the verandah and strolled down the path and across 
the street to the edge of the bluff. Prudence rested 
herself on one of the benches and Thomas soon 
found it convenient to take a seat beside her. They 
watched the lights upon the passing vessels, lis- 
tened to the roar of the breakers upon the bar 


[ 20 ] 


ON AARON’S NECK 


and discussed the gossip of the preceding week. 

"Has the deacon said anything more about the 
sale of the property?” at length inquired Thomas. 

"He seems to be on the fence now,” said Pru- 
dence. "Doesn’t know whether to advise mother 
to sell or not. Is praying for light.” 

"The deacon is a good man,” said Thomas, "and I 
hope his prayers will be answered.” Then suddenly 
turning to her, he exclaimed with evident emotion, 

"I believe they will be, Prudence, and that our 
dreams will be at last realized.” 

"What do you mean?” she replied. 

"Would you not be mine, if there were some 
way by which your mother could have care and 
attention, if needed, or at least could have some one 
in the same house with her?” said Thomas. 

"Yes,” replied Prudence, and as he grasped her 
hand, they both relapsed into silent and sweet 
meditation. 

At length a shuffling noise was heard behind 
them and Thomas recognized the deacon returning 
from the prayer meeting, as he approached one of 
the benches. He was muttering to himself and 
appeared greatly agitated. Prudence heard noth- 
ing, but Thomas could catch a few words oc- 
casionally. "Widow — hang it — said tew much at 
first — hang it — s’pose I’ve got to take back water — 
hang it — aouw ! ” 


[ 21 ] 


ON AARON’S NECK 


He had seated himself on one of the benches and 
both bench and deacon were now disappearing down 
the embankment. Thomas could hear him scramble 
but the sounds grew fainter and more distant. 

"I guess he’s gone to the bottom,” said Thomas, 
jumping up and taking the regular path to the 
shore. 

The old man was considerably bruised, shaken up 
and out of breath, but he still had strength enough 
to exclaim vigorously, as Thomas approached : 
"Drat those infernal boys. They are always up to 
some diviltry. I believe they undermined that seat 
on purpose. Where in the world did you come 
from?” 

Thomas explained that he had dimly seen the 
accident from a distance. 

"I didn’t know anybody was around,” said the 
deacon. "Hang it — I’ll arrest those fellows. I’ve 
rolled down this bank from top to bottom. Seems 
as if every sinner in my body was crunshed.” 

"You’ll feel better soon,” said Thomas. "The 
sand was soft and the rocks few.” 

"Drat it, ” said the deacon, "how’s the widder? 
I was goin’ to see her to-night.” 

"I will take your message,” said Thomas. 

"No you won’t neither,” was his reply. "I’ll 
see her myself.” 

As soon as the deacon’s "sinners” would permit, 

[ 22 ] 


ON AARON’S NECK 


he drove down to the widow Jackson’s and capi- 
tulated. The hand of the Lord, he thought, was in 
this transaction somewhere, although he could not 
just see where, and if the widow should sell her 
house and buy half of his (the price would be very 
reasonable) he believed an overruling Providence 
would see to it that her future should be as full of 
mercies as her past had been and perhaps even 
fuller. 

So it came about that Mr. Jamison bought the 
house and the engagement of Thomas and Prudence 
soon followed. Unfortunately for the deacon, how- 
ever, the widow Jackson died suddenly before any 
bargain had been made with him and for a long time 
he appeared very unhappy. Her death was a great 
blow to him, he said. 

The wedding of Thomas and Prudence occurred 
the following spring. There were a number of 
presents from the Jamisons and the following note 
from Harry. 

" Dear friends : Mother says you two are going 
to be married and I must send corn-grat-your-rela- 
tions. I scratch my head and can’t think nothing to 
say. I can do more than I can say. Give my love 
to the deacon. I had a buly time last summer. 

Harry.” 


[ 23 ] 





AMOS STRONG, LEGISLATOR 


AMOS STRONG, LEGISLATOR 


II 

S*ig|pAW, Joseph, I hardly knew ye. Let me 
||I|X git my specs. Why, you’re lookin’ fust 
rate. I s’posed you’d be all kinked up with 
dyspepsy, same as our ministers are.” And Aunt 
Priscilla gave one of her characteristic chuckles. 
"Law, you must have had to study hard.” 

Joseph assured her that he was feeling very well 
in spite of close application to study. 

"Wall, p’raps ’tis more what they eat than what 
they study,” continued Aunt Priscilla chuckling 
again. "I alius thought our ministers’ wives was 
poor cooks, but I didn’t das to say nothin’ to them. 
And your mother, how is she?” 

/'No better, I fear,” replied Joseph. 

"Oh! I’m so sorry. Tell her I think of her 
often. It’s so tedious and hard to lay so long in 
the same room in the same bed. The Lord be with 
her. I know what it is, law sakes, I guess I do. 
There, give her that package. I’ve had it right 
here ready to send for much as tew weeks.” 

Joseph thanked her and inquired for her son Amos. 

"Nobody knows where he is,” replied the old 
lady, "sence he’s got polertics on the brain. ’Spose 
you’ve heerd about his wantin’ to go to the legisla- 

[ 27 ] 


AMOS STRONG, LEGISLATOR 


tur. That air Senator Jimson is at the bottom of 
it, I think, but Amos says he’s anxious to git 
’lected, ’cause he thinks he can git that clam law 
passed he talks so much about. He says there’ll 
be a bigger call for clam hoes if that law is passed. 
I suspicion, however, he has got some bigger 
pussonal object than that in mind, p’raps tew or 
three of them. He's a good boy, howsomever, and 
I hope he gits ’lected, though, land sakes, he’s no 
more fit to be representative than a hin is to swim. 
He’s a good boy, though.” 

"Does he find any encouragement in the town 
for his ambition ?” inquired J oseph. " Oh law ! yes 
said Aunt Priscilla, "lots of these young upstarts is 
eggin’ him on.” 

The subject was not a pleasant one for Joseph 
and he pursued his inquiry no further. "My 
mother has expressed a desire to see you,” said he, 
" at some early day when it is convenient for you 
to come. I will drive down and take you up to 
the house any afternoon you may select.” 

"Law, how good you be, Joseph, but I don’t 
know’s I can come ’fore Thursday,” said the old lady. 

"Very well,” said Joseph, "then I will call for you 
about two o’clock on Thursday, if that will be satis- 
factory.” 

"Oh! yes,” said Aunt Priscilla, "I shall be so 
glad to come.” 


[ 28 ] 


AMOS STRONG, LEGISLATOR 


"And mother will be very much pleased to see 
you,” said Joseph, as he took his leave. 

Joseph Andrews was a young man of excellent 
attainment, good family and good manners, who 
had been and was still, in a measure, the pride of 
the village of Columbus. He had been the leading 
scholar at the high school. In the academy and at 
college he was always near the head of his class — 
sometimes, in fact, at the very head. Prizes had 
come to him and now at the age of twenty-two, 
having completed a course at the law school, he 
was seriously considering the first great problem of 
manhood, the problem where his first and all-im- 
portant entry into the world of business, society 
and politics should be made. He had large politi- 
cal ambitions, but was reluctant to assert his claims. 
He had been trained for a profession which, he 
thought, peculiarly fitted him for legislative duties 
and he felt that the village ought to see this and 
call him to the position which Amos Strong was 
seeking with an ardor equalled only by his unfit- 
ness therefor. The people appeared to admire 
Joseph’s learning and ability. Would they send a 
blacksmith to represent them rather than a college 
graduate? Would they prefer to travel in an ox- 
cart when they could take an express train at the 
same price? It seemed to Joseph incredible and 
he waited for some expression, indicating that the 


[ 29 ] 


AMOS STRONG, LEGISLATOR 


people were thinking of him and desirous for him 
to come forward. 

One other circumstance confirmed him in the idea 
that the people in the end would call him to the po- 
sition. His father was a man of substance, for many 
years a leading citizen of the town. In due course 
of time, Joseph would probably inherit one-half of 
the property and, with his education, would easily 
be the leading citizen of the town, if he should set- 
tle there. Would the people fail to use every rea- 
sonable effort to retain such a citizen in the town ? 
Would they fail to see how useful he might be to 
the town in the future ? He could not believe that 
these friends, who were so kind and complimentary, 
were merely phrase-makers, or totally blind to 
their own interest. 

The summer passed, Joseph remained expectant, 
alert, anxious to find some sign of a movement in 
his favor, but deeming that the office should come 
to him as a matter of right, and not as a result of 
self-seeking and dickering. Amos Strong, on the 
other hand, had no such scruples. He neglected no 
opportunity to push his claims. There were fre- 
quent conferences of his friends at the blacksmith 
shop, his campaign headquarters. A large legend, 
" Our clams must and shall he protected ” greeted 
every one entering the shop, speeches of Senator 
Jimson and his essay on clams were freely dis- 


[ 30 ] 


AMOS STRONG, LEGISLATOR 


tributed to all customers, while an anonymous and 
of course, anomalous pamphlet on the critical con- 
dition of the fishing industry was sure to fill the 
pocket of every one who came within hailing dis- 
tance of Amos. As the campaign progressed, the 
shop was closed more and more frequently and 
customers began to grow impatient at the delays in 
securing their work done. "Don't you know you 
can’t talk,” "Let polertics alone,” "Bring your 
shop around and shoe my horse,” "My wheels must 
be tired waiting, so send them home,” were some of 
the notices he found scrawled on his shop door, 
when from time to time he returned to work. 
Amos held his opponents responsible for these 
warnings and abated none of his political activity. 

To say that the progress of the campaign was 
decidedly disappointing to Joseph is to describe his 
feelings very inadequately. He was unable to 
account for the infatuation of the people. No one 
seemed to consider him as a possible factor in the 
situation and finally late in the summer he ventured 
to suggest to a few of his relatives his availability as a 
candidate. They were not inclined to encourage him. 

"Amos’ opponents are mostly Baptists you know, 
and you can’t expect any help from them in this 
town, being a Congregationalist,” said Uncle Joe. 

"You know Amos is solid with the Mutual Bom- 
bast Club,” chimed in Uncle Peter. 


[ 31 ] 


AMOS STEONG, LEGISLATOE 


" He’s an honerary member of our Sewing Circle,” 
said Aunt Betty. 

"He’s working hard for it and you can’t do the 
things he does, I know,” said Aunt Susie. 

Joseph thought Aunt Susie was about right, but 
he did not like to believe that injustice would really 
triumph. He knew that his relatives were always 
inclined to "throw cold w T ater” on his plans and so 
accordingly he consulted other friends in the town. 
The result, however, was not reassuring. The con- 
test was " on ” between the two factions. Each side was 
eager to win, and no one seemed to think they could 
" swop horses ” in this part^of the political stream. 

"You see the fight has been advertised tew take 
place,” said Ike, the champion loafer of the village, 
"and it would be dretful to have a cop, right from 
college, break it up. Down with the cop !” 

On the night before the caucus there was a gath- 
ering of the "Somehow” or Strong faction at the 
blacksmith shop. Senator Jimson was there to 
consult with his lieutenants ; there was a modest 
lunch served on horse shoes, plenty of hot coffee 
prepared on the spot, while Amos pulled the bellows 
to heat it, and nuts cracked at the anvil. The sit- 
uation was canvassed, the political fences found to 
be in good repair and confidence seemed to be in 
the air. Late in the evening some of the girls of 
the Kit Kat Club called to wish Amos success and 


[ 32 ] 


AMOS STRONG, LEGISLATOR 


were treated to hot coffee. One of them, who 
seemed unusually interested in the campaign, was 
heard to remark that she was thankful women could 
not vote, as she was sure she would stuff the ballot 
box for Amos, if she had the chance. 

The following evening, as soon as the vote was 
announced at the caucus, Amos, the nominee, arose 
from his seat, hat in hand, walked straight to the 
door and disappeared. No one seemed to know 
where he was going. Those friends who went to 
his shop and to his home after the meeting, failed 
to find him at either place. 

They were decidedly nonplussed. As a matter 
of fact, Amos had brushed aside politics for the 
moment and at the house of Miss Letitia Warner 
was plotting to secure one more object of his am- 
bition. Since the death of her mother several 
years before, Miss Letitia had been at the head of 
the Warner household and in that position had been 
reasonably successful, at least, in the opinion of 
Amos. He had been a frequent, in fact, a regular 
caller there. He had learned that she could cook 
nearly as well as his mother, that she cleaned her 
lamps every day, that there were no cobwebs on the 
walls and no lint on the cups and saucers : in short 
he considered her to be a careful housekeeper and 
had rejoiced that he could bestow his affections on 
one so worthy in herself. He had not ventured, 


[ 33 ] 


AMOS STRONG, LEGISLATOR 


however, to declare his earnest purpose, because 
his future seemed too uncertain. Now, however, 
all was changed. The nomination, which he had 
received, was in that town equivalent to an election. 
He was sure of a largely increased income during 
the following year and the bulwarks which had 
heretofore been thrown up against the advance of 
Cupid seemed to be falling in ruin. 

"You know I’ve been bangin’ around here a good 
deal, Letty,” began Amos, "and the more I hang 
around the more I want to.” 

Letty began to blush. "You horrid thing,” she 
protested. 

"Wall, may be,” he continued, "but I’ve heerd 
some good news to-night, Letty, and I’m anxious 
to hear some more before mornin’.” 

"Amos, have you got that nomination?” cried 
Letitia, jumping from her seat. "I thought you 
hadn’t ; you didn’t say so right off.” 

"I guess I have,” said Amos. 

" Isn’t that good,” said Letitia in delight. 

"Yes,” said Amos, ’ tis good for two reasons; 
fust, I didn’t like to git beat by that Baptist loom- 
inary that was runnin’ agin me and second, it sort 
of clears the air for Coopid to shoot.” 

"You’re just dreadful to night. I don’t believe 
you got the nomination at all. I don’t believe you 
are smart enough,” retorted Letitia. 

[ 34 ] 


AMOS STRONG, LEGISLATOR 


"Wall, Letty, you see ’twas just this way,” began 
Amos. "I see ’twas pretty dost and just before 
the polls closed, Sam Thomas come over to me and 
began to talk hoss rakes and mowing machines. 
You know he runs a farm several miles back and 
has six sons, all voters. I showed him that I knew 
some men in Discord, where the Legislatur meets, 
who deal in farm implements and told him I would 
gurrantee I could git those things at a reduction, 
when he come up to the city. That settled him and 
he give his boys the wink and they all voted for 
me. And now, Letty, there’s no gal in this town 
that I like equal to you and I want you to be my 
wife, after I git through my term of office. I’d like 
to git married right away but I can’t git too many irons 
in the fire to once. Now, Letty, won’t you be mine ?” 

"Oh, I’m so surprised,” said Letty looking down. 

"No you hain’t nuther,” said Amos, as he took a 
seat beside her. "You know I’ve been head over 
heels in love with you this long time.” 

Amos got his second piece of good news that 
evening, he was elected in November and Senator 
Jimson was returned for another year. 

After it was all over, Amos began to feel more 
keenly than ever his disqualification for the office 
he had sought. 

"I s’pose,” said he one night at the shop, as he 
was talking the matter over with some of his 


[ 35 ] 


AMOS STEONG, LEGISLATOR 


friends, "I s’pose I ought to have withdrawed, and 
let Joe Andrews in. He would have liked to go.” 

"Wall, he’ll git along all right with all his 
larnin,”’ said one. 

"He don’t need the money as much as you. His 
father’s well fixed,” said another. 

"P’raps we’ll give him a chance when he gits 
older,” suggested a third. 

"But I say,” said Uncle Abel, who rarely said 
anything, "I feel as if Amos is right. I think we 
should git the best man for the place. We all know 
how poorly Amos is fixed and what a good fellar he 
is, but I don’t think we ought to give him such a 
place just out of friendship and charity and fellar- 
feelin’ and all that. I b’lieve in the survival of the 
fittest. ’Tany rate, though I b’lieve in friendship 
and charity, yit when it leads to the survival of the 
on fittest, as in this case, I think it had better stop. 
There’s such a thing as bein’ so friendly and charit- 
able as to beggar yourself and this can be applied 
to the people of a town, as well as to one person.” 

They all laughed. 

"I guess you’re right, Uncle Abel,” said Amos, 
"I guess that’s what it is in my case, the survival of 
the onfittest.” 

" That’s what we’re cornin’ to more and more every 
day,” said Uncle Abel, as he disappeared in the 
evening darkness. 


[ 36 ] 


AMOS STRONG, LEGISLATOR 


In due course of time the bill "to protect clams 
and other shellfish in the town of Columbus” was 
duly introduced into the Legislature by Amos 
Strong. It was drawn by Senator Jimson who was 
really manager of the affair, with Amos in the role 
of humble servant. The bill embraced two pro- 
visions, first, to prevent non-residents from taking 
clams and other shellfish within the limits of the 
town, second, to prevent residents from taking 
clams during six months of the warmer part of the 
year. Of course, it was bitterly opposed by the 
representatives of the adjoining towns whose peo- 
ple for a long time had fattened on the clams of 
Columbus. Under Jimson’s direction, however, 
Amos succeeded in dickering with many of the 
other members from the country who had bills of 
their own to get through and needed his vote. 

The members from the city were more formal 
and harder for Amos to approach, but their support 
was necessary for the success of the bill. Senator 
Jimson said he would attend to them, but Amos 
thought he ought to do something, too, in that 
direction. He was anxious to deliver a speech on 
the bill in the House, believing that the city mem- 
bers would think him "some pumpkins after all,” 
as he expressed it, if they found he could make a 
speech, and would regard his cause more favorably. 
Senator Jimson was at first utterly opposed to this 


[ 37 ] 


AMOS STRONG, LEGISLATOR 


plan. In private he ridiculed it. The Senator, it 
should be said, was a college graduate. Nurtured 
in luxury and having no special fondness for books, 
he had submitted, by reason of parental orders, to 
the operation of having a college education forced 
down his throat. This meant that he had imbibed 
considerable book knowledge and acquired more 
than ordinary facility in literary expression, in 
spite of all he could do. Nothing less would have 
satisfied his father. At the time he was in college, 
parents had not reached the dizzy height of advis- 
ing their children to go to college to study human 
nature and life ! I can imagine what the old man 
Jimson would have said to such an idea. He 
would have said, "Why, if my son needs to study 
human nature and life, he can come right down 
to my store and I’ll gurrantee he’ll get more 
knowledge of human nature and life in six months 
in my employ, than he can git in college in ten 
years, and besides he’ll know what a dollar is worth 
when he gits through. If we are going to have 
educated men, let’s have them know somethinof that 
we common folks don’t know, or else abolish col- 
leges.” 

After graduation Jimson undertook a political 
career and succeeded very well with the aid of his 
father’s influence and some shrewdness of his own. 
After his father’s death, he very adroitly invested 


[ 38 ] 


AMOS STRONG, LEGISLATOR 


some of his property in industries employing large 
numbers of men and his political strength in the 
district became fixed on a firm foundation. His 
influence was sufficient to secure some of the city 
members for the bill, but its fate was still in doubt. 
Under these circumstances, on further consideration, 
he consented that Amos might deliver a speech, 
provided he could see the effort before its delivery. 

"See the speech,” cried Amos, "see the speech! 
Why, I can’t write a speech, I want you to write it 
for me. I’ll give you the idees, but you must dress 
’em up. I s’posed you knew I wanted you to write 
it.” 

"Well,” said Jimson, "what ideas can you give 
me ?” 

"Fust,” said Amos, "You want to begin ’way 
back to the creation or near there and make some 
allusions showin’ how old shellfish and especially 
clams are. That will show the edjecated members 
that I’m solid on history. Then you can come 
down gradually to the time when the Injuns dug 
clams along the shores of Columbus and how their 
shell heaps are dug out every year in our back 
yards. Right at this point you might git up some 
joke about how the Injuns seem to have shelled the 
town several centuries before the British undertook 
that job in the Revolution. That would put the 
audjence in good humor and then you could sail 


[ 39 ] 


AMOS STRONG, LEGISLATOR 


right in and reel off the solid argyments for the 
bill. You know what they are as well as I do, so I 
need not tell you, but be sure when you end up, 
you sing the praises of shellfish as compared with 
other fishes. There is a great chance for oratory 
there.” 

The speech was at length completed after several 
conferences with Amos. He tried at first to commit 
the whole to memory, but it was new work for him 
and set him into a cold perspiration whenever he 
attempted it. He, therefore, abandoned this plan 
after a few efforts and decided to read the speech 
from manuscript. Those who were present say 
that he began somewhat haltingly and feebly, but 
gradually warmed up as he got into his subject and 
even on the spur of the moment interpolated some 
of his own ideas. As he completed the peroration 
with the words : " I know not what others may 

prefer, but as for me give me the succulent bivalve, 
nestling in its modest shell, pure and sweet and 
rich in its distilled nectar, and let the bold and 
slimy swimmers of the sea, that lure many a brave 
fisherman to a watery grave, go their dreary and 
devious ways, unnoticed and untouched,” it was 
said by some that the wooden codfish upon the 
ceiling could be seen wagging its tail and snapping 
its eyes in approbation of the sentiments expressed, 
but there is some doubt whether this is strictly 


[ 40 ] 


AMOS STRONG, LEGISLATOR 


accurate. At all events, the speech was regarded as 
extraordinary by the country members and the vote 
taken soon after in the House resulted in the 
passage of the bill. Senator Jimson looked after 
its interests in the Senate and in due course it be- 
came law. 

When Amos returned to his constituents, he re- 
ceived frequent requests for copies of that speech, 
but always declined to gratify his people in this 
respect. 

"They won’t catch me palming off anything as 
mine on the good people down here, when it isn’t, 
no sir,” said Amos, "not on anybody but those city 
fellers up in the Legislatur.” 

Not long after his return to the shop there was a 
wedding in Columbus between Amos and Letitia, 
there were floral horse shoes, floral clam hoes and 
floral clams and plenty of fun, jollity and sociabil- 
ity. Nearly everyone in town attended and tarried 
till long after midnight. The affair was the talk of 
the town for a month after. Amos has now settled 
in a small house of his own and abandoned all 
further political ambition, although he still remains 
the local "boss.” The town still continues in the 
same old ruts as formerly. "Joe” Andrews is 
settled in a distant city, his faith in human nature 
shaken at the outset of his career. Very few of the 
people seem to realize the true significance of their 


[ 41 ] 


AMOS STRONG, LEGISLATOR 


action. Whatever is, is all right with nine-tenths 
of humanity. There are, however, some who can 
look beneath the surface, and see the great uplift- 
ing and re-acting influences and results that would 
have come both to the town and to young Andrews, 
had the people been more heedful of this highly- 
trained mind and cultured gentleman and taken into 
their hands the key which would have unlocked the 
treasures of his soul for them and made him their 
fellow-citizen and benefactor. A little of the 
"horse sense” which takes the best that is within 
reach, would have saved that community from error, 
would have sweetened its own life and that of this 
young man, and hurt nobody. There are some 
mistakes that are tragedies in themselves. 


[ 42 ] 

















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